"Who's for Coca Cola?" - Ross Lovell

After a year off in 2005, Norseman was calling us again, and with new gear and better fitness preparation (?) we thought this would be a great opportunity to improve on our performance in 2004.

However, my role would be as support driver this time round after failing to recover from a slight injury issue (I was knocked off my bike in Wigan and broke a knee cap, a foot and chipped an elbow). Our optimism then took another blow when Chris fractured and dislocated a shoulder whilst skiing in Austria just a few months before. How would this affect his "immaculate" swimming technique?

Fortunately we had persuaded Gary (from endurancelife) and Matt (a rowing, boxing, Greenland ice-cap crossing rugby league player) to come with us. Twice the people, twice the banter - if nothing else the trip would be a great laugh.

Again we made our way to Stansted airport to catch our flight, this time to Haugesund. Chris and I attempted to put Gary and Matt's minds to rest about the severity of the event (over a crayfish sandwich from Pret A Manger), but given our descriptions of the event still revolved around the severity of the hills and the temperature of the water, i'm not sure how much we helped.

After an uneventful flight and, on arrival, a nervous check to make sure that all our gear had survived the heavy-handedness of the baggage staff, we collected the 'Van of Dreams' (a Toyota Hi-Ace) from Hertz. It was perfect and even had a CD player - not that we expected it and actually took no CD's to play. Norwegian radio does play the occasional UK hit, but only very sparsely spread amongst interminable tracks from the Hardanger Fiddle and Folk Association, and Norwegian discussion groups on the quality of local cherry harvest. Then, just as Coldplay comes on, you either go through a tunnel or behind a mountain and that brief sanity-saving moment is lost for another hour. As driver, this probably affected me more than the others. Needless to say we will most definitely be taking a suitable road trip soundtrack with us next year.

  It was soon all too much for Matt and Chris

We were soon on the road and heading for Eidfjord. The quality of the radio was almost forgotten and vastly outweighed by the stunning surroundings that we were driving through. After a short picnic of bread, cheese, tomato, orange juice and...err... herring, on a romantic little rocky outcrop, we wound our way passed fjords and mountains, skillfully avoiding the occasional road-hogging coach or lorry.

Mountains rose steeply straight from the edges of the various fjords, occasionally capped with snow or ice, melt water streaming from the tip of the retreating hanging glaciers into dramatic waterfalls. It was occasionally hard to concentrate, which, as driver, didn't go down well with the passengers. The sun had been out since we landed and the skies were completely clear. 

We went straight to the Tricamp in Eidfjord and, being first again, were able to monopolise a good space in the sports hall. Food, clothing, drinks bottles, sleeping stuff, bags, bikes, tools... everything we had with us was soon spread out. Whilst the others sifted through their gear I had important gymnastics to attend to (see 2004 report).  

Gary soon noticed that his bike was not quite in the same shape that he had packed it before the flight (always a risk with soft bike bags). His large chainring had become bent and was sounding particularly ill when pedalling. Given that he didn't fancy riding 120 miles in his middle chainring, this would be a priority for the next morning - but for now we all needed a good feed. We headed into the village, and were very pleased to find a local cafe serving evening meals of either lasagne, or burgers and gravy, on the wooden veranda in the evening sun.

The day before a big race should be restful. Ours was spent trying to find any bike shop within thirty miles that could fix Gary's bike, or simply provide us with a large chaniring. Unfortunately, for the price of a whole new standard Shimano crankset in Norway he could probably have bought Lance Armstrongs original Tour de France winning Trek. We returned to Eidfjord unsuccessful.

On the ferry back I was fortunate enough to spot two white whales rolling across the surface of the Hardanger Fjord. My fingers were too slow on the trigger to get a photo, so you will just have to believe me when i tell you what an awesome sight it was (something none of my companions did, much to my disgruntlement). 

Thanks to some cunning bending and DIY work (thanks be for Leatherman tools), Gary was able to fix his bike (and save a small fortune), just in time for the race briefing and pasta party that evening. The briefing was a basic run-through of the safety and course issues (you can read them here), along with a Fiddle performance by local school children.

As the sun set over the pasta party (it is held on an open-top ferry on the fjord), everyone began to get their race heads on and mentally prepare for the very early start.

Back at the Tricamp it was now buzzing with last minute bike tinkering, food preparation, clothing choices (including a fashion parade of spangly new Team Accelerace Skinfit bib shorts), sorting of transition bags and waterbottle filling. By just past 11 o'clock I was tucked into my sleeping bag, and with alarms set for just after 2am, I wasn't sure how fresh I would be feeling by the same time the next day.

One thing that struck me as I drifted off was just how many finely tuned, exceptionally fit and dedicated athletes, snore like rusty engines.

I was actually awake before my alarm. Partly because the entire left side of my body had gone numb from sleeping on the hard gym floor (in spite of the landing mat I had pilfered to sleep on), and partly because there was a constant stream of traffic to use the toilet. Whilst the others sorted (and re-sorted) their gear, I lay in my warm cocoon for as long as possible. We discussed the logistics of the day ahead - what would happen if someone had to drop out or their bike broke, where people would get food, switching between helping the person at the back and the person in the front - and were confident that we had a good plan.

Down at T1 it was still very much night time. Bikes were checked, transition areas arranged, wetsuits donned and all nervous energy channelled towards the nearest toilet. Soon everyone was ushered onto the ferry for the short ride to the start. It was a bizarre sight watching everyone. Over one hundred people constricted into their wetsuits, waddling around in green swim hats (some with their goggles on).

The journey out into the fjord seemed to take some time, which, to me, was an alarming reminder of just how far the competitors were going to have to swim. I was, however, grittily informed when I pointed this out to the others that the journey had been all too short - they'd been enjoying the gentle boat trip, and now the moment had arrived to actually jump into the water it looked an awfully long way to the shore, and anyway the water was probably very cold, and they thought they might have a stitch. As the boat stopped, one end opened out and all the competitors took the leap of faith into the fjord below. Well almost all - there was a side door for those who were scared of the jump.

As the sky began to lighten, the starting horn was sounded and they were off. Now my job had begun. I had to get my team to the finish. Suddenly feeling very responsible and slightly under pressure, I took a moment to enjoy the rising sun.  

The first guys came storming into T1 in just 49 minutes. A good swim from all three in my team brought them all into Eidfjord in a 10 minute period. Thankfully this made my job at T1 very easy. After making sure they all had food, felt good and had started the bike leg, I collected all their gear and got the Van of Dreams rolling. We had decided that I would meet them all at the top of the first major incline - partly because most of that section is inaccessible to normal traffic. 

It is a tough start to the bike stage to say the least and I thoroughly expected all three to need refuelling at the top. I briefly saw Chris halfway up. He was flying on his new Zipp wheels. The race had started well. Matt and Gary were also going nicely, and once everyone had fresh water, electrolyte and bananas it was time to properly start our yo-yoing plan.

Along the Hardanger plateau my job was easy. The cycling is really enjoyable and offers some good recovery time after the exertion of the first hill. All three held a good speed until I met them in Geilo. Ater 95km the course turns a bit more severe. As the course profile shows, four steep hills lay between Geilo and T2.

The weather was perfect (easy for me to say in the van) - not too hot, not too cold, very little wind and dry roads. In 2004 the prevailing wind had practically blown us to a standstill across the top of Imingfjell - truly one of the stiffest hills to tackle over the last 20 miles of a bike leg.

Chris was now over and hour and a half ahead of Matt and Gary, and after making sure they were all safe to finish the bike leg, I met them again at T2.

After swimming 3.8km, cycliing 112 miles and beginning a marathon, rational thought deteriorates and is replaced by an overwhelming determination solely to reach the finish at all costs. For Gary this irrational moment manifested itself when he decided Coca Cola would give him the boost to get to the finish line - he NEVER drinks the stuff. I'm pretty sure these weren't pregnancy cravings and it certainly didn't help Gary on the run. Not long after the coke was "seen again".

There is so much contradicting advice about what is best to eat and what should be avoided during a race. Coke clearly wasn't the best choice for Gary. Besides the coke, Gary was drinking Taut electrolyte and isotonic, and plain water, as well as muesli bars and bananas. Chris and Matt favoured Jelly Babies, bananas and SiS Go drink and bars.   

With the finish line now literally within sight (in spite of being almost 2000 vertical metres above and a good 10 miles away), all three were now making steady progress towards the infamous "Zombie Hill" and a finisher shirt.

It was fascinating to be the observer for once (if not a tad frustrating). I didn't realise quite how much people change over the length of an ironman, particularly one of Norseman's severity. As fatigue sets in they all wilt slightly, run a little less upright and have a blair witch-style glazed look in their eyes, stoically advancing to the summit.

   Gary at the mountain checkpoint

With the Zutons and Valerie in my ears, the sun shining, and clear roads, I was able to move quickly between all three. I was a bit confused when on one trip back Gary was soaking wet. It turned out that rather then an extreme sweating episode, he had infact dived head-first into a roadside fjord to cool off.

Matt's pace had slowed from alternating his running/walking every five songs on his ipod to every other song and finally an awkward looking run/walk every 10 strides. But, everyone was now looking less than nimble, and by the time they reached zombie hill everyone had slowed to a shuffle-trot.

Zombie Hill is a beast. Clutch (as well as soul) destroying. It zig-zags several times before reaching the cut-off point for those who will be too late to reach the mountain-top.   

 ... almost finished